


Tabula Rasa

by focusedfun



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-09-27 07:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20403655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/focusedfun/pseuds/focusedfun
Summary: After Charles is kidnapped by the government, in a body that’s not his own, to his surprise, Erik comes to his rescue, and is quite nice to him, which causes them to get along unexpectedly well.If they are not Magneto and Prof X, could they have more than just their old friendship back? And if so, what will happen, if Charles is forced to confess who he really was all along?





	1. - puppeteer -

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo! For comic fans out there who are more devoted than I am and had a chance to read, note, I only heard about P. Xavier when I already had this fic in the making, but the similarity doesn’t escape me.
> 
> Also, my plot diverges _before_ the plot line of Dark Phoenix, but also taking the status quo over of that film for a fic start - just to not spoil anyone I won’t say what that is.
> 
> Warning: this fic hasn’t been beta read, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Enjoy!

Charles thought of the green springy hair that bounces you back when you step on it, "grass" was such a boring name for what it meant.

All the textures around his feet, translating into different body movement by the law of necessity made him laugh, and speed up his morning stroll. 

Like on a dirt road, if it was raining the night before, it was muddy, slippery and enveloping his shoes on the sides, giving him the feeling of sinking a little before easily sliding across, accompanied with an almost funny voice of squelch-squelch.

If you wandered under the trees, the ground covered by recent leaves, you could move so fast they were stirred up from their sleep, following you for a while and sailing back to the ground, after you, disheveled.

Or the time when you were hiked on hilly pasture covered with blades of a beautifully long and rich grass, making your own way in it, especially in the morning when it was covered by faint dew, and you could feel the green smell around you, almost taste the grass on your tongue, chilly.

Even walking barefoot and risking stepping into things seemed founder than memory, almost something to be coveted, if you're in a wheelchair.

Of course, as a telepath, Charles also missed the feeling of nature itself, the birds singing, the little insects buzzing, and a quiet sense of overflowing calm, as if you belonged to a universe that was connected through every living thing, including you. Busy as well as never moving at the same time.

Out there he was free of the noisy thoughts of people constantly bickering in the back of his mind, knocking on his own.

He couldn't get his chair far away from his home to get away alone and weren't about to ask Raven or Hank or any of the teachers to take him for a walk.

He hated reminding them of his injury, in fact, he'd rather try to force a vision on everyone of himself as if being in the chair didn't affect him at all, brilliant and competent still as ever.

The less he heard his colleagues' comments about his invalid state even if they were understanding, the more he could chose to forget until he was reminded of it on his own.

Which still was often, but at least it wasn't accompanied with pity and a strange sort of secret relief that it was Charles and not them condemned to this fate, followed by prompt flustered remorse for thinking that also, and wondering if Charles had caught them on it.

On the other hand, his students, who were less familiar with him as "normal" (as much as Charles had never fit that description), had thoughts of him that were quite _unflattering_ during his classes.

If he was a man still, and could "perform" at all, given his circumstances. If he was a strict teacher only because his dick was just as useless as the rest of him under the waist.

It was vexingly tempting just to yell at them in the middle of the lecture that they should be rather paying attention to the material that one day just might save their lives, but that anger didn't really come from his students being children, who would naturally try to slack as any kid would.

He had to accept they were young and carefree, and less potent in shielding their thoughts from him, as well as having an attention spam much-much shorter than Charles had possessed as an academic type all his life.

Of course, if something had to go, Charles would rather choose his body to be damaged rather than his mind a thousand times over.

Yet, there were small things he didn't appreciate well enough before, like how a walk felt now, after being so stagnant for what it seemed so long.

Even getting to the city with his chair seemed some sort of a spectacle, either asking someone to drive him or driving a car especially made for him, but when he parked with that, people were staring, and unconsciously hoarding their curious children far away from him, as if his condition was contagious.

So, he chose to drink often, and stay put, his only input being whenever Raven forced her company on him, which was composed of a lot of chatter, and few information, just as always, but it was supplying him of news and gave him a better sense of how the missions went than trying to read Hank's throughout, but quite voluminous reports.

It was safe to say that he was low on sensory input, when he decided to take over William's hospice care as well as the bills for the machines he was plugged into. Raven declared Charles has found the perfect boyfriend, and giggled every time she saw “Billy”, ignoring his real name. Hank pretended he was Charles’ male nurse, which was kind.

At night, Charles hooked Will up to the machines that kept him alive, sleeping in a separate rooms, pretending Will wasn't just a door away, only living on life-support.

At day, however, he sometimes took over Will's mind, using the empty shell of the person he once was, and controlling him as if he was an extension of his own person, like a mechanical limb, and through him, Charles could walk again.

It was terrible, almost monstrous to use a body that once belonged to someone else this way, but Will was a coma patient soon to be cremated without any relative to pay for his funeral, and even Charles couldn't sense anything left behind in his mind. He had been brain-dead for years.

But all that regret, shame and discomfort was worth it, when Charles could join Hank on the morning runs again. When he could pace around his room, using the energy of movement to transform into new ideas of battle formations and strategies in his mind.

Not to mention, he felt immensely lucky to be able to join the missions again to which he had to send his fellow mutants alone before. Now he could spend time with them and even be useful on the missions, saving them from harm personally, if he had to, not just as a shadow, mentally creeping after them, trying to support them, but barely able to make any difference.

It was in such mission, ironically, and not on one of his walks or shopping trips (he took that duty from his housekeeper now, enjoying it probably more than he should have, the simple joy of moving a cart in the supermarket and the hunt for big amounts of food they seemed to consume in a blink), when he was captured.

If anyone, Charles was responsible for letting even teenage mutants of his school fight the fights that mostly didn't even concern mutants. He did this because it was his conviction that the kids became stronger when attending to these missions, rather than if they just learned from textbooks alone, shielded from the outside world. 

These mission were always supervised by at least two adults, and they tried to not put the children in any real danger, while presenting them challenges worthy of their powers.

He also was convinced that kindness can have a power to connect anyone and everyone, paired with patience and the conscious effort on his part to manage the image of mutants in the media any chance he got.

He believed everything Erik didn't. Not that he could blame Magneto and his followers for distrusting the humans, based on some of their unfortunate pasts.

Charles had his fair share of bullying, loneliness and living as an outcast, of course, which was only partially because he was a mutant and more so because he was a child protege, always a bit strange, and the adopted sibling of Cain, who did everything in his power to hurt Charles.

That, however, was nothing compared to what Erik had to live through, as well as Raven and many others. In fact, Charles was privileged and smart enough to deal with most of his issues, even as a child. And after Raven appeared, he didn't have to feel alone ever again.

Except the time when she left with Erik after Cuba, but that was just for a time long enough for Charles to learn to appreciate her presence even more when she returned.

Charles had his best friend next to him since childhood in her person, he was lucky, and saw chances where Erik and his followers didn't.

At least that was the narrative he had in his head about his big break with Erik. That he had hope, and the better state of mind because of his "easy" upbringing, to engineer something between the mutant and human race that didn’t have to be based on fear or judgement.

Well versed in Psychology just as much in Genetics, he hoped to show how he and his people were willing to extend their hands first towards ordinary humans, a helping hand, so that in time, perhaps, their reputation could ask humans to do the courtesy and see them as not that different. 

Something closer to humans, other beings with a thinking mind least, instead of being considered dangerous beasts, closer to the animals, subpar to humanity.

That future in his mind was so bright for his fellow mutants, he hoped to accomplish it in his student's lifetime, if possible. He was pushing for it, in fact, sometimes taking risks.

It was only fair he walked into a trap the government laid for them, capturing Charles and not Raven, who in his stead, could react quick apologizing to him in their minds, and at least take the kids away. 

They were more important to protect, for they couldn’t fend for themselves as much as Charles, who could only be thankful Raven could make this choice without letting her emotions for him cloud her judgement, or make her hesitate.

But being kept in a cage that was designed to make mutants incapable to use their powers, and being tortured every day over the same question ("What kind of ability do you have, you little freak?"), hit him hard not because of the physical pain. 

Rather he was losing hope he’d ever accomplish anything with trying to build bridges towards normal humans, and the mortification that so far he - clearly - didn’t.

Could it be he only made it worse? Forcing something that wasn’t desired by either humans nor mutants, maybe he was just pushing it until their balance would break, unnaturally built, when mentally, neither race was ready for it yet? 

Perhaps, there was a reason why some races could never coexist and the extinction of a side was the only way out, and Charles was only foolish, given he wrote a thesis on the topic, but never really understanding a thing.

Maybe he should have let Erik retaliate in Cuba, and he then could still walk, not just by using a puppet. He could not only walk, but march proudly on Erik’s side, because even if people would fear them more, they'd at least know of their power, and respect that. 

Maybe then they would have never had to split their mutant family/school up, after working so hard together to build it.

Thinking about how if his group of X-men were attacked on a mission, then everyone could be in danger in the mansion, when he was trapped in Will's body was still proven to be the worst line of thought. 

Usually followed by the deep desolation of how Erik was proven right, while time was just flying by Charles, almost as if frozen in one place, when he was desperate to be in another, to help and to make everything right he messed up. 

Every day he was kept from that, a little piece of him died, just as he feared every day meant less safety for the ones he cared about, like a burning dynamite fuse, eating itself quickly up, only flames and destruction waiting for them on the other side.


	2. - serenity -

You can’t change your experiences of your childhood, especially not if you grew up the way Erik did, he knew that much.

Contrastingly, he had found that he had now the freedom to chose what to do with his life. He won’t be probably ever able to ignore where he came from, as the pain took up a permanent residence up in his mind, just as his heart.

Yet he was no longer blinded of the sacrifices others made for him, from his mother to his fellow mutants, and he knew he could handle the pain, the mourning, the quiet anger of being different, just as he did that his entire life.

Silence helped. Living far off from humans and their problems, with mutants who went through just as much as he did, he emerged as their leader without the intent to do so.

Truth to be told, all that was good in his life now came just as much as by an accident as the misfortune before. And in the process, he discovered something important what his revenge mission and killing could have never taught him. Nor losing, nor winning, not even unlocking his power.

Now the residents of Genosha sat by a campfire every night, instead of the desks littered with military maps and mission plans was what finally made Erik somewhat understand.

For him, peace started with his own peace of mind, that required effort on his part to obtain, but after getting it so wrong so many times, he supposed he can only do better now if he could just keep on going.

He didn’t question humanity anymore, the morale of ordinary masses, or what was wrong or right.

Rather, just like a recovering alcoholic, he just took one step at a time and admired where he was at any day without judgment of where he was going or where the world was turning under his feet, and what it might mean for his future.

Of course, their people never could afford to be completely oblivious and unprepared, they had a guarded parameter, the most high-tech security system available, just as fancy lawyers to keep the mutants of Genosha safe, but Erik deliberately chose not to be a part of that.

He volunteered more for physical work that needed to be done as their island was for the most ways self-sustaining. He went to help with harvests, mechanical repairs, built houses.

Once even helped a mutant mother to give birth when they couldn’t rush a doctor to the island soon enough and became a godfather of a young mutant girl, the girl's mother insisting, no matter how he wanted to tell her he wasn't the right person to be trusted with a newborn child.

It was a slow life, compared to the grandiose title of “Magneto” before, and also lacking the attachments he started a new life and got married thinking he could hide who he was if he really tried, but it was a fine balance.

The people of Genosha had three rules. They were rarely spoken about, yet everyone keeping them cemented their foundation better than any written rules the human governments had.

_One,_ no missions were allowed except rescue missions for their fellow mutants. If they were to attack anyone - barring self-preservation or self-defense - there would be bloody retaliation, endangering their community, everyone knew.

_Two,_ no humans were allowed on their land. Obviously, they left that world behind for a reason, and it would have meant only a seed of trouble, not to mention they could be in danger of getting hurt by some of their powers.

_Three,_ everyone helped out, in any way they possibly could. There wasn’t kings or privileged people in their society, and while everyone couldn’t do the same tasks, and help the same way, they all earned the same treatment.

The same ration of food, the same type of clothing, and quarters. And if someone was stronger than the rest, they’d have to carry more of a load than others like children and the elderly, who could only do less.

Keeping those rules just as much as trying to get rid of the ghosts of his past, Erik went rarely to even rescue missions anymore.

The commanders of their small group of fighters knowing he mostly preferred to get them and their vehicles out of the island only but otherwise always stayed back, stopped asking him after a while to come with them.

They were respectful of him not going since it also meant the island had still some kind of protection if most of their soldiers were gone. With Erik remaining, and human weapons mostly being composed of metal, it was a strategic move.

This time, however, two of their own, a child and his mother were captured, only when they left the Genosha for a holiday to visit their human relatives, never coming back.

Erik was leading their troops to get them back, personally invested, despite being idle of fighting for so long. What they have found in the cages that suppressed any power, matched with the collars that were meant to do the same was unacceptable, and would have sent Erik in frenzy before.

Now Erik chose to have a young mutant trail them with a camera from a safe distance, and he made sure no human guard was killed if they could help it.

Letting the footage stand later as proof of human cruelty and mutant patience, before the law and the eyes of the people who still cared, letting them judge instead of Erik of what punishment the captors of these mutants deserved.

As for his part, he knew how to talk to people who could barely stand up, to help survivors of the greatest horrors get back to their life again, and he also knew that some of the hostages just were better left alone.

Some could be never healed, left with apparent scarring, reminding them of tortures now they never could forget, but the physical side of it rarely made the difference. Sustaining the same injuries of the mind, however, always did.

He wasn’t Charles, it wasn’t in his nature to try to help lost causes, or see himself as a guru of peace and acceptance when he was barely learning how to live with his past himself.

For that reason, he never offered any unsolicited help, and even when he did, he made sure to keep a certain distance on purpose, so people won’t rely on him too much, rather learn to find strength in themselves again.

This time, however, when he saw a young man looking at him from his cage with an expression close to hatred rather than being positively overwhelmed by receiving rescue, he felt some kind of a connection.

It’s not that he could explain it, really, how one irritated look could mess up his principles so easily, principles that in the recent years became a synonym with his own person, but for this man, he pulled the metal of the cage out with his power not waiting for the others to rescue him, and cut down the collar of the man himself, before asking.

“My name is Erik, what’s yours?” And when the man didn’t answer, just almost as if searched his face for something, Erik uncharacteristically, almost clumsily added. “Do you need a doctor?”

“I don’t need any help _from you,_” was only the answer the prisoner gave him, narrowing his eyes.

In fact, he wasn't in hurry to follow the escape route like everyone else around them did, rather he just sat down, and closed his eyes, like some of the building wasn’t in a complete mess thanks to the fights Erik and his people had to go through to execute the rescue.

The young man sat there with a shield of calm, as if in deep meditation, not caring about anything or anybody else in this world, and for a moment, Erik almost admired that strength.

There were clear sets of scars on the body of the man, some fresh, some badly healed, maybe even more so than on the others, yet he still seemed composed and unmoved by it all, sitting down to presumably use his mutant powers, whatever they were, as if nothing happened.

But then, when Erik turned to leave, and help other prisoners, the guy’s eyes opened, and his calm was totally gone, as if in shock. He not only grabbed Erik now with bruising strength but also seemed to be having a full-fledged panic attack while he kept talking nonsense, as much Erik could tell and hear.

“My body is gone! It’s not there… I’m dead… And everyone… I can’t feel them… my sister… the children… I-I… they trusted me, and now everyone is dead and it’s my fault, it’s all my fault…”

“We’re rescuing you,” Erik held firmly his hand the other man was clinging into, trying to channel power through posture but not being intimidating at the same time. “You aren’t dead. Look at me. You aren’t dead, and we’re here to rescue everyone, taking you to a safe place where they won't find you.”

“You don’t understand, that’s not-“

“I probably don’t,” Erik noted, because he knew how every tortured soul perceives even the same conditions different, and no one can really identify with those experiences expect the survivors themselves. And maybe mutants like Charles or Emma, if seeing and feeling the pain in a mind could ever be the equivalent of living it, Erik didn’t know. “But I can help you.”

He usually was careful to say that so straight on and used “we” instead of “I” to indicate his people rather than himself. This time maybe he saw so much of his young-self in this mutant prisoner, that it made him want to help, personally, if it was needed.

Also, letting the raging panic attack of the freed prisoner grow when there were still some human guards with weapons barricaded in the building wasn’t tactful, anyway.

“You… you don’t even know who I am!” his new-found protégée, however, only twisted his arm out of Erik’s. “Would you know, you’d let me die in here! I’m no better than… than a killer! I’m dangerous, pathetic and deserve to be left here!”

Most people would have been probably terrified by the insane look that the man was giving Erik now, but he knew how shame and guilt worked, and he lived through hurting Charles for instance on the beach over and over again in his nightmares.

Maybe, he felt this connection to the young man not only because he saw himself in him. Maybe Erik was connected to this stranger, because he was ready to help this man, leading a steady enough life to make way for helping another, just temporarily until the man recovers.

So he just knocked out the mutant with a tranquilizer dart he and his team carried instead of heavy weapons, usually used on humans rather than their rescues.

And after he carried the unconscious mutant out, and they got home, and Genosha wasn't prepared for so many new residents at once, he gave up his own bed for the man, sleeping on the floor. He still found himself there often anyway, instead of the comfort of a too soft bed, so it was no real sacrifice.

Except, mutants who knew him well from the past years, now eyed him with some distrust, and he didn't have to wait long to know why, when his roommate finally woke up one morning, and he was gathering some soup to take to him for breakfast, and Selene came up to him.

"Was your new bedmate an attractive enough woman, I'd say I understand," she told on straight away to Erik, who just chuckled.

"It's not like that, and you know it perfectly well, Selene," he just humored her, talking out loud, when they both were clear she already read his mind before the words left his mouth.

"I'm warning you, Erik, he needs to go," she pressed on with a humorless expression. "First, I can't read his mind, because he has mental walls I have never seen the likes of before. Don't you find that concerning?"

"I'm sure he had a reason for it, given his captivity," Erik said, trying to talk her down. "But-"

"And second, he's a human, not a mutant. The test we have to tell the difference came back negative," Selene wasn't going to let him speak now, it seemed, her eyes somewhat angry. "If this gets out, and our people realize you're giving all that special treatment to a _normal human_, I won't be able to help you, Erik."

Erik had found his mind wondering now. Was it possible? Why would a mere human be kept where only mutants were held, and if he was that ordinary, why did he have mental walls Selene couldn't get through in the first place?

It was surprising how unconcerned and indifferent he was hearing the man in his home was human, even. He supposed it didn't really matter to him, seeing the injuries the other man had, he only had compassion, not hatred now.

"There is no special treatment here for anyone," he just told Selene, while she didn't seem so impressed with this answer.

"You have him in your personal quarters, Erik," she just told. "And while you're nice to everyone here, you're known to not speak with anyone more than two words at a time. And for this human, who isn't even supposed to be here, you even serve him breakfast in bed? What are our people supposed to think?"

"Whatever they want," Erik saw if fit to finish the conversation before the soup could get cold. "It's only temporary anyway, his relatives or friends most likely are looking for him. Until then, I won't deprive him of a safe place where he can recover, after being tormented like that, no matter what anyone says."

"Then let him stay in my room, at least," Selene, however, almost followed him back to his guest. "He'd sure prefer that, I sense somehow he doesn't like you. Although the minute I caught that, he was quick to cover it up, we sure as hell don't want him to murder you in his sleep. I could keep an eye on him-"

"And torture him all the same as the humans did, trying to get to his mental secrets while peaking into his nightmares since you can’t do the same when he's awake?" Erik just stopped so abruptly Selene almost bumped into him. "I don't think so. He stays with me until he wishes to, and that's final."

He never really had an argument with Selene before, she was almost like his best friend, and one of the best commanders of Genosha. Also, he was careful to not give anyone orders, but now he just did, didn't he?

"Big mistake, Erik," Selene now warned, but she stopped trailing after him at least. "You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment. When did that ever help you?"

It was meant to hurt him, given how she knew that was his greatest fear, that he will become controlled by his senseless emotions again, repeating mistakes of his past, but he never did let his emotions _build_ something before. He always used them for _destruction_.

How could he be making a mistake now, then? And he never felt like he was doing the right thing, the thing he was supposed to do. So he dismissed Selene's worry and trusted his own instincts.

"I refuse to act towards every human the way some of them act towards us," he told Selene, before entering his one-room abode, and finding the man he adopted standing by the window, probably overhearing his most of conversation with Selene, not even trying to pretend he wasn't listening in.

"You know, she's right. I should not be here, and I am an ordinary human now," he told Erik, watching his reaction.

"If you want to leave, you should eat the soup and concentrate on recovering faster, so that you can," was all that Erik has told him, ignoring the "now" part. Did the humans experiment on this man, taking his powers somehow by rewriting his DNA? But he didn't want to be intrusive about it, not yet at least when the man barely was freed last night.

Erik wouldn't put it past some politicians to try to patent a drug or method like that, trying to get rid of their kind. Charles would probably know if it was possible, of course, but it's not like he'd take Erik's call to discuss it. Even if Erik had a phone.

"If you think you acting this way will make me trust you, you're gravely mistaken," the man said, but his eyes were following the soup in Erik's hands carefully as if he didn't have a proper meal since weeks.

"I didn't expect quite less from you," Erik just found himself saying as if he was almost fond of the fact that his prisoner seemed to dislike him when everyone in his situation did so far the exact opposite. "And I also have a busy day in front of me, so you don't have to worry about my annoying presence until much later when you will probably be asleep."

Erik hoped that him leaving the man alone will let the young human to eat the soup if he wanted, without thinking Erik will check on it whether or not he did. He seemed like he desperately needed a nice meal without prying eyes and questions first before there could be any attempt at his recovery later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (By the way, Raven and the kids are safe. Just Charles has no way of knowing that without his own body, and powers.)


	3. - road to ruin -

Touching Magneto was like swiftly caressing reminiscent shards of glass of a once vase that fell to break.

It was revenge, served blazing hot. 

Genosha had a moderate climate, and was getting a good amount of sun that was warm but not scorching, which made people look healthy, and the crops steadily growing.

Charles, on the other hand, just always felt as if an icy hand kept trying to squeeze the life out of him. Starting from the pit of his stomach, pushing his insides together tightly, moving through his heart that kept erratically breathing the chilled air in, then to strangle his throat with sharp blue thorns, and finally arriving to settle on his mind with a heavy thug, as if he was wearing a helmet of ice, compressing.

Heat passed through him like a fleeting thought of a distant longing.

It was a desperate reach of a slipping mind.

The people of Genosha had a quiet demeanour, even their children, but they all collectively kept working hard, just as Erik did and that common intention kept them together.

While Charles had to spend two weeks healing from his physical injuries alone, and even then rarely felt emotionally up to join the dinners and breakfasts everyone attended, while their lunch some might had on the fields, working.

Not that they were talking to Charles. His only constant shadow was Selene, who made sloppy attempts trying to break into his mind, which he could even feel without any of his powers.

He had to picture mental walls to keep her seeping through the surface, and while he was isolating himself and sealing himself off with bricks and steel and impenetrable rock just as intricately designed locks, it would have been almost schizophrenically dual to try to connect with anyone.

And they would probably just regard the only human on the island with suspicion, as any community with strong ties would regard a newcomer outsider.

Selene was his enemy, no question, especially if she by small chance should figure out who he really was, but he also couldn’t help to notice her wordless companionship felt better than being alone with the memories of a place he was just rescued from.

It was a misguided way to have again someone.

Erik has - after all this time - learned how to smile. It wasn't fitting him as attractively as when he was morose or straight-out murderous, but Charles couldn’t help but realize that the feeling behind was a modest happiness.

Erik had learned how to have that an especially burdened way, but the fact that he managed made him, for a lack of a better word, magnetic. Not only to Charles, but to everyone.

Even without his mind reading skills, he saw enough genuine smiles while reading minds to sense the nuances, and when the night came, and Erik was telling crafted tales of truth to the children, and they surrounded him just as they surrounded their campfires, there was a little content on Eric's part, that was never there before.

Charles had to borrow the island's only phone to call the number any lost X-men was taught to call, in case of emergencies, changing the recording of the answering machine to inform their people in case they had to leave someone behind. The number was disconnected, just as the number to the mansion.

Having a constant urge to step back into your body and not finding it was proof way before the calls anyway. And being alive, rescued and given a chance to recover, while a lot of people didn't have the same luxury was almost worse as if he was just killed.

Without his powers, thinking of Raven almost as if she was too good to be true to be in his past, he felt as if underwater.

Waves kept clashing into him, along with swirls of water as if they were hand that had attempted to tear him into pieces, to pull him under and never let go, and voices of others seemed muffled and distorted, while manufacturing a type of silence he wasn't accustomed to. Colors had changed, becoming more drab, and it was hard to move, while his clothes kept sticking into his skin.

He may have been dreaming of something so horrifying yet again, maybe of drowning as often, because he didn't remember falling down from Erik's bed to the mat on the floor, where Erik has slept.

But he woke up surrounded by heat that has left him since weeks if not months by then, and was faced with a sharkily smiling Erik, who tried to convey by beaming at him that it was okay, he didn't mind.

Charles, for just one second forgot about his grief and still mending bones, maybe even himself, and wanted to wipe off that gauche smile with a kiss, proving to Erik that it wasn't.

No, nothing will be the same as once it was, at least not for him. And Erik should not be graciously accepting Charles in his bed as if it was nothing, if he knew how Charles wanted him. He'd keep his distance, especially he knew how Charles fascination by him was anything but recent.

Even when they didn't agree, when they were mortal enemies, Charles wanted Erik. So bad it almost physically hurt. But since the other man never showed any interest in anyone - but least of it, in any man - he kept this feelings locked away.

Sometimes feigning strong hatred was the only way Charles could mask his lingering feelings towards Erik, they were so unsurmountable. Charles kept even lying to himself, narrating the story as if he was angry at Erik for the unfortunate happenings at the beach, essentially Magneto’s acts costing his ability to walk.

In reality, it was closer to a heartbreak Charles really felt, when the man he loved didn’t want to associate with him any longer, because he wasn’t willing to walk a way of murder, which Charles couldn’t choose, not even for the sake of Erik. It was one thing to know that Erik didn’t reciprocate his feelings and another that Charles thought as friends they would never part.

Even avoiding Selene, the emotion he buried the deepest and kept the most secretive was how he always felt towards Erik.

So, it was just meant to be a kiss. A warning not given by words.

Maybe even fueled by the unique possibility that Charles could do this, and it wasn't known to Erik that it was him, just only this once.

Charles, however, overwhelmed by everything and everyone else lately, without his powers, somehow didn't count with Erik just grunting into his open mouth, and pulling him closer as if he was starving to death and Charles' mouth was the only food in sight.

"I really shouldn't," then equally without warning, Erik pulled abruptly away, just when Charles - after his first shock - started to forget completely about himself. "I'm taking advantage of you."

"I thought that was me," Charles answered more honest than he meant to, given that he was anything but composed. He didn't think his obsession with Erik _this_ bad, ignoring the feeling for years. But now that he had a glimpse how it would feel to be able to have him close, it was painfully obvious. He was more astray than he’d ever imagined.

"Whatever you think you're feeling is surely because I rescued you," Erik elaborated, now having a guilty look on.

He was wrong. This binding disease started spreading much more earlier than that, but Charles couldn't tell him that.

Despite his intellect, Charles was obtuse about this, in fact, for what it seemed now eternally long.

Erik clearly wasn't disgusted with men even though he didn’t despise women either. Had Charles tried anything before… maybe they would have never ended up on that cursed beach, or not the same way as they did. Maybe then Raven and all others could be alive and so happy as the people of Genosha seemed to be.

There is also a possibility that they could have killed each other then, or broke up the team much earlier if they were more than friends. It was painful enough for Charles to lose his legs in Cuba, without severing any of the ties a budding romance with Erik would have put him through.

"Would it be still taking advantage of me if I was on top?" Charles just found himself saying.

He certainly didn't want Erik to leave for his daily tasks, and leave him behind with his thoughts of regret and broken ice of a mess of a brain.

"I didn't think you'd want me like that," Erik smiled.

And Charles shouldn't have thought Erik was provoking him, because Erik didn't even know it was Charles. Still, his instincts by habit were tuned into a channel where whatever Erik did was immoral, and he had to prove him wrong and fight whatever is that Erik was doing.

That now this seemed to translate to passion between them without any added effort seemed just an ignorable circumstance, when Charles kissed Erik again, who just deepened the kiss in return.

"I… I don't have any protection or… other things," Erik then pulled away again. This time, it wasn’t as abrupt as before, as if he was also warring with himself, and maybe only to be able to breathe. "I'm not known to do this, if I'm honest."

Charles' hazy thoughts barely registered words. How was that Mr Magneto seemed to be composed, even then, only his fattened pupils giving him away.

"I know ways around that," Charles just noted, now distancing himself, his mind finally coming to a chilly realization what he was doing and with whom. "But maybe it's smart, I do not belong to your kind anyway."

It was one thing that Erik was now reformed, but he was still a man who took things from Charles. 

Important things, feelings and Raven. 

Giving him more would just risking him taking more the next time, without getting anything back. 

As it wasn’t fair from Charles’ side to expect anything back, he should also consider that when he’s tempted to act foolish.

"Of the hundreds of reasons I could name why we shouldn't, that's the least of my concern," Erik, however, now gently reached for his wrist. Then he dropped his voice to a whisper. "Being born like this is more of a curse than anything, believe me."

"I can't tell when you lie," Charles just shrugged. He never could.

On principle, since he had buried feelings for Erik, he kept further away from Erik's mind than he would have from most people. 

He also thought Erik knew this, like he knew a lot of things instinctively about their team of mutants or basically everyone they came across, and acknowledged it as a correct move on Charles' part, but that's why it was twice as insulting when he put the helmet on, after everything.

Didn’t he know that Charles weren’t reading his mind anyway, as a curtesy? Didn’t he at least acknowledge it for the strength of resistance it took on Charles’ side?

Putting the helmet on signaled he either didn’t or choose to pretend so, and Charles couldn’t tell which option infuriated him more.

"I'm not lying," Erik stated, as if mattered what he said, compared to what Charles was convinced he must be thinking. "But getting you breakfast should be priority."

"Of course," Charles just shook his head. It was almost funny, really. "Maybe later, for now, I'm not really hungry."

To his credit, he was about to gather himself from the barren mat, but Erik must have seen his sour expression, because the next move which he caught Charles with was close to the speed of a pouncing predator, ready for attack.

Something so wrong should never feel so right.

It was unavoidable, though. They couldn’t have kept kissing with at this speed, without slowing down, without it leading to much more.

Charles ran his hands over Erik’s slim yet silkily muscular frame first, just enjoying the texture and the sensations after his capture, where he was devoid of so many things people consider normal to have. And he felt also floating in the feeling of rich acceptance, that Erik also gave him by not pulling back.

It was a luxury not even Dr. Charles Xavier had before, and it was more intoxicating than any drug or drink could have been, a full taste of Erik, as Charles would have never thought he’d be allowed, even when they were on best terms, before heading for their worst.

Then, Charles also wanted to touch Erik through not just fabric, and he managed to take off Erik’s shirt while only breaking the kiss for mere seconds, before finding himself falling into an even deeper well of passion, having the half-undressed Erik on top of him.

It was in equal retaliation maybe that Erik took off Charles’ boxers, and then with the same determination, he engulfed Charles’ member just as much as he could, because between the thought of surely dying by the sensations but still raggedly breathing as he was someone else, Charles could feel himself hitting the back of Erik’s throat.

He should have stopped by then, but it was also impossible to consider, when he could just intwine his fingers into Erik’s hair, and demand a faster speed out of the man by cruelly pulling, humiliating him while getting also the infinite pleasure of getting a head.

In a way, that Erik was willing to do this for him, even if he didn’t know it was Charles, almost meant Charles won their constant disputes and came out on top. 

He had such a power over Erik with this younger, able body and their newfound circumstance, that Magneto himself was even willing to get down on his knees and get soiled by him.

It was just as new as it was exciting, and since Charles’ despair of his time locked up was still haunting him, he was all the more desperate to cling into a feeling that didn’t just leave him with cold, dark, lonely, unescapable emptiness.

He would have inextricably held into Erik if he would have wanted to fuck Charles, but this was better, because receiving a blow-job didn’t require that vulnerability. 

He didn’t need to trust Erik the way he didn’t anymore, but would have done in the heat of the moment.

In this facade, Charles could keep up the lie, that he only let Erik do it, because he was in control, and not utterly lost, and definitely not completely under Erik’s spell.

And if one day Erik should figure it was Charles, he’d be probably more embarrassed than smug, compared to if he had Charles, claiming ownership over Charles’ body.

Yet all that assurance was a lie, and Charles knew that, keenly aware as he came almost prematurely, cumming in spams of hot white pleasure down on Erik’s throat, who was taking it all while also touching himself, his eyes closed as if he was concentrating hard on Charles.

It was also incredibly foolish, and it pronounced an unsheltered expression on Erik’s face, making Charles inexplicably feel soft toward his once-enemy.

Erik reminded him of a dog, that was mistreated for a long time, and grew mistrusting in humans, too austere for any new loving family to take him in.

Then, almost as by a miracle, he had found a home, and now could show the true colors of his side that only wanted to be accepted, no matter the seemingly harsh exterior.

And this overgrown puppy under his fingers deserved more than just what Charles given to him, so he pulled Erik up, and kissed him deeply, feeling the bitterness in his mouth Charles left there, before also pushing Erik down on his mattress to return the favor.

It’s not because he felt like he owed Erik anything, but because he wanted to do it much more than his forgotten dignity could have hindered him.

He wanted to feel Erik’s length and weight on his tongue, while seeing him even more unguarded, when he was coming, and desperate for it, solely relying on Charles to get there.

If it was a power play, Charles either had already lost, or was now only winning, but it was better than any status quo. 

It felt like he was living through Erik if he was no longer living himself, gathering heat from Erik’s want, and becoming somewhat of a human again.

He was devouring pleasure from it probably just as much as Erik, and enjoying it almost as much as he would have enjoyed in in the past, in his own body, before he was imprisoned and was left to question everything, forgetting how feeling alive felt.

It was as if he regained something lost, if the freezing cold of death didn’t find him now reaching for him in the shadows, lasting at least until Erik orgasmed hard, and his seed came out in hot sprouts, forcing Charles to adjust to be able to accommodate him. 

It was addictive, to do something again that was pulling him out of the endless Wasteland he was cast into.

As if he was colorblind, but as long as he was touching Erik, he was experiencing colors again in their full spectrum, connected to a feeling of being safe, a bit of calm and a sense of content, even if just temporary.

He didn’t count on how Erik then pulled him into a kiss after finishing, unfettered by where Charles mouth just was. How it felt when he only left to bring breakfast in bed for Charles, looking positively disheveled now. How Charles managed to do that to a man who, on the outside, in the eyes of others, seemed established.

It wasn’t just a chess game anymore, just blazingly burning revenge, just a mistake carelessly made.

Charles wanted this to last. Wanted it before and couldn’t imagine tearing himself off the idea now that he had experienced it once. A potential ruin to all the small, soft and worthless of a self he had left, after even dying as himself, no way around him to escape fate that was already set in motion, the lies he could find to dress it up as notwithstanding.


End file.
